


Knowing Is Half The Battle

by BabyStepsAreStillSteps



Category: The Dead Zone (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyStepsAreStillSteps/pseuds/BabyStepsAreStillSteps
Summary: As Greg Stillson got away with each new scheme, his faith in his people's ability to cover up any and every misdeed grew. He ventured out of the oval office to give a talk in his home town of Cleaves Mills, much to the displeasure of the man he considered his personal nemesis, Johnny Smith.In a moment of pure hubris, he invited the psychic to his exclusive talk, looking forward to rubbing it in the man's face that he had failed to stop his ascent to power.Greg Stillson was a smart man, but he was cocky, and that just might be his undoing
Relationships: Walt Bannerman & Johnny Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Summer_Meadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Meadows/gifts).



> This takes place post season five, but before season six starts, because my sister and I refuse to acknowledge the last season's existence in retaliation for killing off our favorite character.

"Stillson," Johnny bit out.

"Oh, hi, Johnny," Stillson greeted with a friendly smile. "So I see you got my invite. Nice of you to come. I just thought you'd like a chance to meet the Vice President."

"I would have," Johnny agreed with a nod, "if he hadn't died in a hunting accident."

Stillson chuckled and made his way to the stage.

“Before you get any bright ideas about running out and stealing my show,” Stillson told him, “just know that the cameras aren’t live. Footage and audio are streamed to the studio where any unsavory additions will be edited out before it is sent to the news channels.”

He looked over his shoulder to see Johnny’s furious expression. 

"Enjoy the talk, Smith!" he called back, smirking as he flicked the microphone on his lapel on and strode onto the stage, leaving Johnny fuming in the backstage wings.

Johnny watched in silent anger as Stillson greeted his chosen few, eating up their cheers and excitment. 

Stillson had come back to Maine under the guise of a contest a few of the local gradeschoolers had won, agreeing to meet the dozen or so children and a handful of teachers personally and give a speech on how the government worked and how each of the children could follow him into office if they worked hard enough.

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head as the man crouched down to talk to the trio of children in the front, six or seven year olds by the looks of it, when the wall behind Stillson suddenly splintered, a bullet embedding itself directly where Stillson's head had been a moment before.

Chaos broke loose, kids screaming and scuttling backwards as another volley of shots pinged off the back wall, barely missing Stillson's ducking form.

In a panic, he reached out and snagged the nearest child, a small boy, holding the kid in front of him like a human shield as the rest of the children made it to safety, hidden behind the line of protective teachers, who watched Stillson with horrified expressions.

Johnny's eyes went wide, and he sprang into action before he could think his plan through.

"Wait!" he yelled, running out onto the stage. "Wait, stop, put him down, I'll do it, I'll be your shield.”

"You, Smith?" Stillson sneered. "You wouldn't take a bullet for me, you hate me.”

"I do," Johnny nodded, edging closer, "I hate you more than life itself, but I'm not taking a bullet for you, I'm taking it for that kid. I will be your human shield willingly if you let that kid go."

Stillson nervously considered the offer, his hand tightening convulsively on the boy’s shoulder.

"If you let him go now and take me," Johnny cajoled, "I’ll let you tell people putting the kid in danger was my fault. You can spin it like you always do so you come out golden while I'm a delusional psycho, I won't dispute you. Let the kid go, take me. You can pay off the people in the building just like always, your image comes through unscathed once again, just let me save this child."

He continued walking forward with his hands raised in surrender.

"No," Stillson insisted, gripping the boy tighter, "You've lied to me before. I know you knew Miranda wasn't dead."

"I didn't lie," Johnny refuted calmly, side stepping slowly until he was between the gunman and the child. "I told you the truth. Miranda Ellis was dead, she faked her death, destroyed herself to get away from you because you scared her so badly. 

She was dead, ready to leave everything behind if it meant being free of you. The woman you allowed Malcomn Janus to murder wasn't Miranda, she was the shell of the woman you and Janus blackmailed into submission.

But this isn't about Miranda. This isn't about you letting Janus get Alex Conners killed. This isn't about you killing your father, or the cover up of your father murdering Rachel Caldwell, this is about a scared child who has his entire life in front of him. If you're going to insist on using a child as a shield, at least let me be a shield for him."

Stillson looked torn, so Johnny gave him another push.

"If the guy does take another shot, wouldn't you rather have two bodies between you and him? And beside, the kid's tiny, not great shield material. I'm taller than you, he can't go for the head if you stand at the right angle.”

"Fine," Stillson bit out, looking around the room nervously for the best escape path.

"Hi, buddy," Johnny said while Stillson was distracted, warm and reassuring as he looked at the child in front of him. "My name's Johnny, what's yours?”

The boy, who had been silently crying, sniffed and took a hitched breath before he answered, "Mikey."

"Mikey," Johnny smiled softly. "What a great name! You know, Mikey was my favorite ninja turtle."

The boy smiled wetly up at him.

"Mine too," he said, sounding slightly less terrified as Johnny distracted him.

"Then you're a man of good taste," Johnny congratulated, and Mikey let out a quiet giggle, wiping away his tears.

"Mikey," Johnny said seriously, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're going to be ok, I promise."

Mikey looked up at him in awe, his shoulders relaxing as he took Johnny at his word.

"Just stay calm and do what Mr. Greg here says, I'll protect you, ok?"

Mikey nodded along, now much calmer, and Johnny gave him another warm smile before he turned to Stillson, letting his expression frost over.

"Stillson," Johnny said curtly, "have you decided on an exit yet?"

“Yeah, we'll go out the back exit and steal one of the cars."

"We don't have to steal one, my car is back there. Black SUV, tinted back windows, you and Mikey can lay down in the back floor, below the seat line and I'll drive you wherever you want to go if we can drop Mikey off at the police station.”

"Deal," Stillson agreed, dragging Mikey back as he moved towards the back doorway.

"Mikey," Johnny said with a grin, noticing the boy's terror returning as he tried to turn but was roughly repositioned until he had to awkwardly shuffle backwards. 

"This is kinda like that one episode of TMNT where the turtles had to practice fighting backwards, remember? The other three tripped all over each other," Johnny flailed his arms to make Mikey giggle, "but Michelangelo could do it, because he was way cooler than his brothers. You think you can walk like he did?"

Mikey nodded brightly, shuffling backwards more gracefully, which loosened Stillson's grip on him enough to make it easier to breathe.

"Great job, bud!" Johnny praised, making sure to stand tall and angle himself correctly to shield the pair. "You're doing it just like him! You know, didn't he win that one battle thing between all the ninjas?"

"The Battle Nexus!" Mikey chirped brightly, apparently completely distracted from the problem at hand."Yeah! He beat _everybody_."

"He did!" Johnny agreed. "And you know what? Right now you're being really brave and really cool, just like him!"

Johnny glanced over Stillson's shoulder as Mikey preened, then back down to Mikey.

"Ok, buddy, there's some steps coming up, ok? Remember how Michelangelo could do all those backflips?"

Mikey nodded up at him.

"Well, it's gonna be kind of like that, you'll lean back, but then you'll move your feet to walk down the stairs, ok? It's like a challenge course."

"Like Master Splinter's agility course?" Mikey asked in excitment.

"Exactly like that!" Johnny agreed with a nod.

Mikey grinned as he made it down the steps, and they were out the door a few seconds later. 

Johnny gestured to his car and unlocked the doors, following Stillson across the parking lot as he dragged Mikey over and threw open the door. 

Stillson wasted no time crawling into the back, laying flat on the floor, and pulling Mikey on top of him. 

Johnny shut the door behind them and slid into the driver’s seat, turning the transmission. 

“It’s ok, Mikey,” he reassured as he pulled out of the space and onto the street. “This is just another part of the game.”

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“So why don’t you just go in and report this to the police?” Johnny asked Stillson as the station came into sight. 

“Are you kidding, Smith?” Stillson asked in disbelief. “None of this happened, remember? Can’t report it to the police, it would be on record. No, my people will take care of everything.” 

“Ah, right,” Johnny agreed sarcastically as he flicked on his blinker to turn into the police station parking lot. 

"Ok, Mikey," Johnny said, putting the car in park and turning to scoop Mikey off of Stillson and onto his own lap. "You see that building?" he asked, pointing through the windshield to the Police Station.

Mikey followed his finger and nodded.

"Good," Johnny praised with a smile. "Now, I want you to go in there and when someone asks you why you're there, I want you to say 'Johnny said Sheriff Walt would help me get home, may I please talk to Sheriff Walt?’, ok?"

Mikey nodded.

"Good, can I hear it? What are you going to say when someone asks why you're there?"

"Mr. Johnny said Sheriff Walt would help me get home, may I please talk to Sheriff Walt?" Mikey repeated dutifully

"Good job, buddy!" Johnny congratulated, holding up his hand. "High five!"

Mikey grinned and gave him a high five.

"Ok, good, just like that," Johnny said, opening the door and sliding Mikey off his lap and onto the ground. "Just remember what you're going to say and go on in there.”

Mikey paused, looking nervously between the door and Johnny.

"You're not coming with me?" he asked, fear creeping into his tone. Johnny shook his head with a reassuring look, grabbing both of Mikey's hands and squeezing them lightly.

"No, I'm not bud, I've got another job to do, but you're going to be ok.

Sheriff Walt is one of my best friends, and he's one of the coolest people in the whole world. He'll take care of you, I promise. He's really nice. If you ask him politely, he might even let you run the siren in the police car, wouldn't that be cool?"

Mikey nodded excitedly, but still bit his lip when he looked between Johnny and the door.

"You can do this," Johnny assured him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, even if I'm not walking right next to you. You're going to have to be brave though, just like Michelangelo, can you do that?"

Mikey gave a resolute nod, straightening his shoulders.

"Good," Johnny smiled. "You've been so brave today, Mr. Mikey, I'm glad I got to meet you.”

Mikey surged forward and hugged Johnny's stomach tightly. After a surprised moment Johnny hugged him back, resting his cheek on his hair for a long second before he pulled back, leaving his hands on Mikey's shoulder.

"Just like how Michaelangelo can win the Battle Nexus, you can do this, because you are just as brave and smart and awesome as he is.”

Mikey smiled, straightened his shoulders and turned on his heel, marching toward the front doors. He stopped in the doorway and turned to wave at Johnny, smiling as he disappeared through the doors.

Johnny shut his door and put his hand on the clutch, casting a glance back to the man on the floor.

"Where to next?" he asked coldly.


	2. Chapter 2

Walt rubbed his eyes as he finished the seventh page of the thirty page report. He cast a dismayed glance at the four other reports he needed to fill out before he could go home and wondered why in the world he signed up to be the sheriff.

"Hey, Walt?" Roscoe called, opening the door and poking his head in.

"What, Roscoe?" he asked, annoyed, as he looked up. "You know I have to get these done."

Roscoe nodded, undeterred by his frustration.

"Yeah, but you've got a visitor, Boss.”

Walt shot him a look. "Can it wait?" he asked pointedly, looking obviously at his stack of remaining forms then back to Roscoe.

"No," Roscoe said, shaking his head. "I don't think so.”

He leaned back into the hallway and said, "Come on in, he'd love to see you.”

Roscoe reappeared, this time with a six year old in tow, and Walt immediately dropped his bad attitude, trying to make himself seem approachable as the child attempted to discreetly hide behind Roscoe's leg.

"What's your name?" Walt asked coaxingly.

"Mikey," the kid said quietly, looking at Walt with big, scared eyes.

"Can you tell him what you told me, little man?" Roscoe asked, smiling encouragingly down at the boy. 

He nodded resolutely and looked at Walt.

"Mr. Johnny said Sheriff Walt would help me get home, may I please talk to Sheriff Walt?" he asked politely.

Walt froze, feeling a jolt of fear when he realized Johnny was nowhere to be seen.

"He did?" Walt asked invitingly, trying to project an image of being friendly and approachable. "When did he tell you that?"

"Just a minut ago," Mikey said. "Outside," he added after a pause.

"He was... Mr. Johnny was outside?" Walt asked, exchanginga quick look with Roscoe. "Is he waiting by the door?"

Mikey shook his head.

"No, he said he had to go somewhere, but I should go in and talk to Mr. Sheriff Walt who would help me."

Walt swallowed hard.

"He had to go somewhere?" he asked. "Was he walking?"

"Uh uh," Mikey shook his head again. "He was driving his car.”

"Do you know where he had to go?"

"No, Mr. Greg was going to tell him when they dropped me off. May I please talk to Mr. Sheriff Walt?"

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Sheriff Walt, see?" he asked, pulling his gold star out a little so Mikey could see it. "Here's my Sheriff star."

"Oh, hi Mr. Sheriff Walt," Mikey grinned, relaxing and stepping out of the cover of Roscoe's legs.

"Hi," Walt grinned, coming around his desk to squat in front of him.

"Now, you said Mr. Johnny was going to be told where to go by Mr. Greg?"

Mikey nodded.

"Yep!" he chirped, rocking back and forth on his feet as he tried to stay still.

"Do you-, do you know what kind of car they were in?"

"Yeah!" Mikey said excitedly. He took a deep breath and recited, "a black SUV with tinted black windows. That's what Mr. Johnny said. It's his car.”

"Great job, Mikey!" Walt praised, then sent a significant look at Roscoe.

"Deputy Roscoe, could you please put an APB out on Mr. Johnny's car?”

"I can do that, boss!" Roscoe said cheerfully, but the look in his eyes conveyed to Walt that he understood the severity of the problem.

"Why don't you sit down?" Walt said, pulling out one of the office chairs and helping the boy up into it.

"Are you hurt?" Walt asked Mikey, peripherally noticing Roscoe duck back in a moment later, obviously having passed on the order.

"Nope!" Mikey chirped with a bright smile. "Mr. Johnny saved me. He told me you were the coolest person he knows, but I'm sorry Mr. Sherriff Walt, I think Mr. Johnny is cooler."

"You know, Mikey," Walt pretended to consider. "I think you're right about that."

"Mr. Johnny told you Sheriff Walt was the coolest person he knew?" Roscoe asked Mikey, visibly trying to swallow down his laughter.

"Yep," Mikey nodded, swinging his legs in the chair. "I didn't want to come in by myself, but Mr. Johnny said that Mr. Sheriff Walt would keep me safe and that he was nice, and he was one of Mr. Johnny's best friends, and then he said that Mr. Sheriff Walt was the coolest person he knows.”

"I’m going to go check on that APB," Roscoe hastily excused himself, ducking out of the room and heading toward his desk. 

Walt watched through the window as Roscoe lost his battle and started sniggering into his hand, apparently explaining what happened to the others when they asked why he was laughing, because soon most of the officers in the bullpen were chuckling

Walt rolled his eyes and refocused on the kid.

“Mikey,” he started, “do you know what Mr. Greg’s last name is?” 

“Stillson!” Mikey chirped, proud of himself for knowing the answer. 

Walt grimaced. He’d been afraid of that. 

“Good job, bud,” he praised. “Do you know why Mr. Greg and Mr. Johnny didn’t come in with you?” 

“Yeah!” Mikey nodded. “Mr. Johnny asked Mr. Greg why he didn’t want to come in, and Mr. Greg said that this never happened and his people would take care of it, but that’s silly, because it did happen,” Mikey finished earnestly. 

“That is pretty silly,” Walt agreed lightly, the kernel of dread that he always felt when Johnny went head to head with Stillson reappearing in his stomach. 

"Walt," Roscoe said seriously, coming back in. "I'll take care of tracking down Mikey's parents and taking his statement, there's something that needs your attention out there, _right now_.” 

“Ok," Walt agreed, trying to keep his voice light as his worry skyrocketed.

Walt walked out into the bullpen, noticing that dozens of his officers were gathered around the tv in the corner, playing the news.

The reporter had already started, but the picture of Johnny on the screen immediately caught his attention, and he walked closer, his officers making a path for him.

"Within a week of working on the then-governor’s campaign," the reporter was saying, "Smith reportedly retracted all support, even going as far as to join the rival competitor's campaign. 

Since then, Smith and Stillson have had several verbal altercations, none the least being when Congressman Stillson issued a full review board regarding Smith's actions in the Seeker’s Compound incident a few months ago.

Eventually, Smith was cleared of all charges, testimonies actually citing that he had saved all of their lives as well as the lives of the law enforcement officers sent in to investigate, but Congressman Stillson made it clear from the first day of the review that federal prison was on  the table if the board did not like Smith's answers. 

Today, yet another development in their already complicated relationship has occurred.

The Vice President, Greg Stillson, arrived yesterday in Cleaves Mills to give a speech to a select group of grade schoolers. 

An assassination attempt was made on the Vice President's life just as he was bending down, leaving him unharmed, but sending the building into chaos. Vice President Stillson grabbed a passing _child_ to use as a shield, a six year old boy named Mikey Donaldson.

Thankfully, the gunman ceased his fire once the child came into play, but Johnny Smith stepped forward as our unlikely hero of the day. 

Afraid the shooter would take another shot, he volunteered himself as a shield in exchange for Mikey, and when his offer was rejected, he offered himself as a shield in addition to Mikey.

Stillson's presentation was being recorded, and the studio handling the footage streamed it on to us as the confrontation began. This all seems incredibly unbeliable, but if you don't believe us, take a look.“

On screen, the studio gave way to a video of the Vice President speaking on a stage.  Stillson ducked just in time to dodge the bullet that flew overhead, sending the children screaming and running. The Vice President reached out and snagged the nearest child, the boy who now sat in Walt's office.

Walt watched in horror as Johnny came on stage, pleading with Stillson and very carefully placing himself in the line of fire. When Stillson wasn't convinced, Johnny offered himself in exchange for nothing, and Walt swallowed hard.

The anchor's description did not do the situation justice. In the back of his mind, a small part of Walt was deeply impressed with how well Johnny had handled the situation, even managing to turn a terrifying trauma into a game for the boy he was protecting. 

The other part of Walt wanted to shake his friend until he learned some self preservation instincts, but for once, he couldn't actually blame Johnny, considering the fact that he was trying to save a child.

The trio disappeared out the back door and the clip ended, flashing back to the the studio.

"We've received a report that the group successfully made it to the police station, Mikey Donaldson safely inside and under police custody, but there is no word as to Johnny Smith's or Vice President Stillson’s location. This footage was kindly sent to us by a civilian on the scene.”

The studio faded into a shaky video zoomed in as far as the camera would allow, which showed Johnny sitting sideways in a driver's seat with his legs out of the car, talking to Mikey with a warm smile, who was standing in front of him.

There was no audio, but Johnny said something with a smile and the boy suddenly rushed forward for a hug. Johnny hugged him back for a long moment before he pulled back and said something else, giving an encouraging nod towards the police station, and Mikey nodded resolutely and turned to march inside, looking back at the last second to send Johnny a wave, which he returned.

Once Mikey was out of sight, the smile fell off Johnny's face and he closed the car door, saying something to his backseat with a look of disdain.

He nodded, shoulders tight, and put his car in reverse, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

The image returned to the studio, but Walt wasn't listening, instead turning to his officers and barking orders.

"Sanchez, follow up on the APB," he started, waiting for her to nod and turn to her computer before he continued.

"Bealey, Donagan, Maida, put together an armed taskforce, we're going in as soon as we find them. Thaxton, Knibb, put together our entrance strategy, brief me on it as soon as it's done."

They all nodded seriously.

"Roscoe," he yelled, waiting until his deputy poked his head out of his office. "You're in charge of getting Mikey to his parents and holding down the fort here, I'm leading the op on finding Johnny.”

Roscoe nodded and disappeared back into the office.

"Sir!" Sanchez called. "Word on the APB, found the car outside an abandoned storage facility outside of town!"

"Good," he said, "get the address to the tac-teams. I want our entrance laid out stat, we head out in ten!"


	3. Chapter 3

Roscoe waved at Mikey one last time before the boy and his parents disappeared out into the parking lot. 

He sighed, letting his cheery mask fall, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

Turning and walking back into the bullpen area, he immediately noticed officers huddled around the tv in the corner, and changed his direction to head that way instead of back to his desk. 

"There's another stream of data being forwarded to our station,” the reporter was saying as he walked up, “this time only audio. We're going to play it live, please be advised that violence and vulgarity may be heard, viewer transgression is advised."

The studio faded as the audio began and the screen was replaced with a smiling picture of Johnny with his name listed underneath and a picture of Greg Stillson, also labeled. Under both of the pictures, a red banner spread across the bottom, reading ‘Viewer transgression is advised’.

"This is what I get for giving you a ride?" Johnny asked sardonically, grunting a bit as the sounds of ropes being tightened came through the speakers.

"This is what you get for being a pain in my ass," Vice President Stillson's voice said distinctly, grunting with effort.

"He's a pain in all of our asses," a voice called, moving closer to the microphone.

"Sonny Elliman," Johnny greeted, disdain dripping off his tone, "good to see you again. Tell me, attacked any innocent girls lately?"

"Why you," Sonny's distinctive voice said before there was the sound of a solid punch, and Johnny groaned. A picture of Sonny Elliman appeared on screen, helpfully listing his name underneath. 

"Enough," a third voice commanded, the echoing footsteps indicating he walked further into the room.

Johnny gave a pained, sarcastic chuckle, sounding tense and angry, but not particularily afraid.

"Malcolm Janus, it's been a while. Haven't seen you since you murdered Miranda Ellis and threatened Jeremy Tomlin into a false testimony to the Supreme Court. You still running the Coalition for a Better America? Still using CBA and shell companies to shield your illegal activities or have you moved on to something bigger?"

"Hmm," Malcolm hummed, sounding faintly amused. There was the sound of another hard hit and Johnny coughed through a moan. "I _have_ moved on. There are so many more resources to be utilized from the oval office."

Johnny huffed out a pained breath before he responded.

"Ah, go big or go home," Johnny commented idly, breathing hard.

"Hmm, yes, now you’re getting it," Janus agreed. 

“Neat trick, killing the Vice President," Johnny spat out. "Still can't believe no one realized there wasn't any gunpowder under Marshall Frost’s nails, but oh wait," he said in mocking sarcasm, "I forgot you own the coroner and convinenently had the man cremated before there could be a second opinion."

"Connections are power in this world, Mr. Smith," Janus said, his voice silky and calm, "and I have _so many_ connections."

"Yeah," Johnny said bitterly, "I've noticed.”

"Yes, you have," Malcolm agreed with a grudging note of respect in his voice. "You have proven a remarkably difficult opponent to subdue."

"Just doing what I can to protect America from filth like you," Johnny told him in a parody of a light tone.

Before Janus could respond, Johnny moved on. 

"So, Stillson," Johnny called, effectively dismissing Malcolm Janus. "What exactly is your plan here? People saw me leave with you. If I turn up dead, how exactly are you going to come through smelling like roses?"

"Did they, Mr. Smith?" Stillson asked, a triumphant smile in his voice. "I mean, that might be what you _thought_ you saw in those delusional visions of yours, but I think you'll find that as soon as my guys are done, there won't be anyone who remembers it quite like that."

"Nice," Johnny panted in disgust. "You've moved on to threatening gradeschoolers. Just when I think you can't get worse.”

"Oh, Mr. Smith," Sonny said in mocking pity, "you don't know anything.”

"Oh don't I?" Johnny asked rhetorically. "Sonny, I know that you and Stillson Senior murdered Rachael Caldwell because her camera accidentally caught a glimpse of the rigged voting machines you guys bought from Argon Security to tip the election in Shitson’s, oh sorry, Stillson's favor.

I know that Rachel didn't even know what those machines did, and instead of just erasing the tapes, you and Stillson Senior bludgoned her with her own camera and then framed me for it. 

I know that you threatened and then killed Mike Kennedy, but not before you extorted him for the financial information of both myself and Faith Heritage Alliance, which you used to make trades and deals using information you should not have had acces to.

I know that you, Sonny Elliman, used the high end escort Nina Belrose to broker backroom deals with the mob on Stillson's behalf. I know that you did your very best to rape her, and were only stopped because she fought back and Mickey Doyle stepped in to help.

I know that you, Malcolm Janus, used fake offices full of people that were paid twenty eight dollars an hour to sit around and look busy to cover up your mountains of illegal activities.  


I know that _you_ were the one that leaked the National Security information to Jeremy Tomlin the week before Stillson's wedding, and I know that you planted a venemous snake in the journalist's garden to threaten the man's pregnant wife so he would falsely testify that it was Stillson's opponent, Michael Scannell, who leaked the information.

I know that you, Malcolm Janus, gave Miranda Ellis earrings on the morning of her wedding that were covered in the venom of the same snake because you knew that particular venom affected the heart and that Miranda had suffered from Rumatic Fever when she was a baby, which caused heart concerns. I know that you killed her with Stillson's knowledge and consent because one night he drunkenly told her about how he had killed his own father.

You couldn't have that little fact getting out, now could you? After all, you'd gone through so much effort to cover it up. You paid off the guards, and you caused a fire in that room, just that room, to eradicate any evidence left behind, and had Stillson Senior cremated almost immediately.

Stillson, I know that you knew Malcolm Janus planned to murder your fiancé, and you gave your express approval.  


I know that you murdered your father when you found out that _he_ had killed Rachel Caldwell, more because you were angry that he was still controlling your life than the fact that he murdered a girl you supposedly had feelings for.

I know that you used rigged voting machines to win Congress, and I know that before you had Sonny Elliman kill him, you used Mike Kennedy to embezzel money from Faith Heritage funds to donate to your campaign under a straw donor scheme.

I know that you know that Malcolm Janus threatened Jeremy Tomlin’s family, and I know that you know that Malcolm Janus set up your political opponent, Michael Scannell, to be knocked out of the race. 

I know that on your express instruction, Malcolm Janus' people crafted the circumstances of Alex Conners' death, and I know that his lab assistant, Trey Walters, sold top secret scientific data to you under the table via Malcolm Janus.

I know that you were well aware of the plot to kill the Vice President, playing your role to a tee as the man who had the presence of mind to shoot the supposed attacker, waiting for the signal that the real shooter had been switched for Marshall Frost before you pulled the trigger.

Stillson, I know that it is truly mind blowing that you ran on the platform of being a wholesome man of God considering you have personally been involved in the murders of at least four people, you've blackmailed at least a dozen more, and you've slept with eighty-two women, twenty-seven of whom you had to pay for their services. You'd think, with all that practice you'd be good enough you don't have to pay, but -"

He was cut off with the sound of another loud hit, Johnny groaning loudly and then staying silent as he tried to breathe through the pain.

"Now, Smith," Stillson said, a thin veneer of friendliness over his dangerous tone. "I'm going to tell you what I tell you _every_ time we have one of these little incidents. You might _know_ the truth, but you can't _prove_ it."

Footsteps sounded through the speaker, pacing around the sound of Johnny's pained breathing.

"You know, Mr. Smith," Stillson went on, "I'm really very tired of you. I'm tired of you interfering and ruining _so many_ plans. I'm tired of having to destroy evidence to the degree I do, because without you, no one would even know to look. I'm tired of you causing, _so much extra work_ ," he said with another punch that had Johnny wheezing for breath, “for Mr. Janus and Mr. Elliman here. Most of all, I am tired of _you_ , Mr. Smith."

“You think you're tired," Johnny panted, "try being the one that has to stop someone with an oval office full of resources and the ability to make all tangible evidence disappear. Have to say, though, with all those ‘connections' you guys have, I thought you'd be further ahead on the scoreboard."

He barely finished his sentence before he was hit again, the sound of a sharp snap and a bitten off scream coming through the audio.

"You know the police will catch you," Johnny promised in a raspy voice when he could breathe through the pain again. “They're not stupid, despite what you think. This will be exactly the proof they're waiting for."

"Oh, Mr. Smith," Janus said, tone dripping with faux pity. "Your death was found to be accidental. I'm afraid that leg just wasn't as healed as you thought it was and you tripped down your own stairs. It's a pity you live alone, no one to check on you before it's too late."

Johnny gave a pained laugh, panting a few more times before he mustered the strength to say, "Really, Janus? That's the best you've got? How many people trip down their stairs and get broken ribs, punched faces, and rope burned arms? 

You don't own the Penobscot coroner, and it's going to look pretty damn fishy when you extradite my body to someone else. Like I said, this is the proof they're waiting for."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Mr. Smith," Janus said, sounding disinterested and unconcerned. "We have our ways, and you will be dead, which will make _all_ of our other plans _so much_ easier."

"We'll see who wins. You might kill me, but I've already won," Johnny told them, confident and sure.

"Really?" Stillson sneered, "because from where I stand, it looks like you're tied to a chair and scheduled for death. Wouldn't exactly call that a point in your favor."

"If I have to die to protect the world from what it means to have _you_ as a president, that's a price I'm more than willing to pay. So kill me, Stillson, but I hope you kissed your office goodbye, because this time I won."

"Whatever little clue you think you left for someone, my people will find it and destroy it," Stillson said, completely confident in what he was saying, "and you'll be too dead to tell anyone about it. Checkmate, Smith.”

Before Johnny could answer, doors crashed open and dozens of footsteps pounded into the room.

"Police!" Walt's distinctive voice announced, "everyone, hands up! Stillson, back away from John Smith.”

"Oh, hi, Walt," Johnny said in surprise. "I didn't know that part, but Stillson, do you want to know one more thing I know?"

"What?" Stillson hissed, seething in outrage and grunting as the sound of handcuffs snapping onto his wrists was heard.

"I know that your microphone for your presentation is on your jacket right beside us," Johnny said triumphantly, "and I know that I turned it back on while you were struggling with my other hand. I also know that it is automatically streamed to the recording studio, and there has to be at least one person there brave enough to share it, so I hope the three of you have a good time in prison. This time it's over. Checkmate, Stillson.”

There were several minutes of chaotic sounds and the voices of officers reading the booked men their rights before the room finally quieted again.

"Johnny," Walt said, sounding relieved. "You ok, man?"

There was a noise of ropes being sawed through by a knife as Walt presumably freed Johnny from the chair.

"More or less," Johnny groaned. "Thanks for the rescue, I don't even know how you knew where to find me.”

"I'm the sheriff, John," Walt said, unimpressed, "it's my job to find people. Did you plan this somehow?"

"No," John groaned again, panting heavily as he was pulled to his feet. “Just saw my chance with the recorder when we got here and I took it. This is not at all how I thought today was going to go."

"Hmm," Walt hummed his acceptance."Let's get you to the hospital."

"Fine," Johnny conceded grudgingly.

"Well that's how I know it's bad," Walt said, sounding concerned under his joking tone, "you've never once willingly gone to the hospital."

"Pain meds," Johnny gasped. "Hospital visions and Dr. Gibson laughing at my chart will be worth it for the pain meds."

"Yeah, I gotchya," Walt said, their voices moving further away from the microphone.

"Mikey's ok, right?" Johnny asked faintly.

"Yeah, the kid's fine," Walt reassured just before their voices faded out of earshot.

"Huh," Roscoe said, staring at the tv as the studio returned, showing a reporter who looked just as stunned as he was.


	4. Chapter 4

“After the stunning revelation two weeks ago regarding Vice President Greg Stillson,” the news anchor said, “the FBI have taken over the case, working in tandem with the local sheriff department these last weeks on reportedly excellent terms. 

The FBI have uncovered a multitude of other crimes, the majority failing to come to fruition due to the efforts of one man in particular, Johnny Smith. 

Johnny Smith has apparently been battling the Vice President for years now, struggling to find ways to bring his crimes into the light, but blocked at every turn by the resources and power Stillson had at his command. 

Local sheriff, Walt Bannerman, was reportedly helping him gather evidence, with the consistent help of Sarah Bannerman, Bruce Lewis, Reverend Gene Purdy, Rebecca Caldwell, and Deputy Roscoe, and they have a paper trail and meticulous notes to prove it. 

This team of unlikely heroes have successfully thwarted dozens of potential tragedies, unfortunately unable to prove the Vice President’s involvement until now, but fortunately able to save an estimated four hundred lives through their various efforts. 

Greg Stillson, Malcolm Janus, and Sonny Elliman will be standing trial for seven counts of murder, fifteen counts of financial extortion, forty seven counts of blackmail, and a litany of other charges. The defendants are expected to request a plea bargain, given the magnitude of evidence piling up against them, but either way they have all been fired from their respective government positions.”

Johnny muted the tv with a grin as the news moved on to presenting the weather. 

“Drink?” Walt asked, a glass of water appearing over Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Beer?” he asked hopefully, taking the glass and looking over his shoulder to give Walt a slightly pleading look. 

Walt laughed and used his now free hand to ruffle Johnny’s hair, giving him a playfully scolding scowl. 

“Do you want pain meds today?” Walt asked pointedly. 

Johnny heaved a dramatic sigh and turned back to face front, subtly rubbing his ribs as they protested the strain. 

“Yes,” he admitted in a put upon tone. 

Walt laughed brightly at him, ruffling his hair again. 

“Then no beer,” he said firmly. 

“Fine,” Johnny conceded petulantly, grinning slightly as Walt laughed at him again. 

“Oh, I forgot!” Walt called, walking back into the kitchen to grab something before coming back into the living room and sitting across from Johnny. “Here you go, one Stillson-touched item, as requested.” 

He held out a pair of handcuffs. 

“These are the cuffs we transferred him to the FBI in, they gave them back after he was secured in their transport van.”

“Oh, thanks, Walt,” Johnny said, sitting up a little straighter and reaching a shaking hand out toward them. He hesitated for a moment before he made contact, then reached forward and froze. 

He sat perfectly still, his eyes staring at something far past the Bannerman’s living room wall for a long few seconds, eventually blinking out of his trance with the beginning of a smile growing on his face. 

“What did you see?” Walt asked eagerly. 

“A beautiful future,” Johnny beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though season six is dead to us, we did watch to the end, and I have to say I was extremely disappointed in how it ended. 
> 
> I know that the show was canceled unexpectedly so they didn't get a chance to wrap up their storylines, but if I got to write the ending, this is how I would have ended the show, followed by 'and then they lived happily ever after’.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you let me know what you think!
> 
> P.S. - If you're looking for more fanfiction to read and you're in the Merlin or White collar fandoms, check out my baby sister's work [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Meadows/pseuds/Summer_Meadows/works)!


End file.
